


we're all just hunters seeking solid ground

by wabisabi_komorebi



Series: Bellville and the Doctor [1]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, FLUFF!!! TENDERNESS!!! kisses? yeth, Friends to Lovers, harvey is a sweet dork, not a slowburn and more like a mediumburn, past bad relationship (mentioned/discussed)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29154477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wabisabi_komorebi/pseuds/wabisabi_komorebi
Summary: Clara didn’t notice the tears until they started falling on the paper, one by one, like the beginning of rain. She sniffed and wiped her eyes, clutching the paper to her chest before folding it and placing it back into the envelope. She pulled out the other piece of paper inside, one that had a more formal appearance. It was the deed, just as her grandpa had indicated. She looked at the glaring white screen of her desktop, listening to the tapping of keyboards, letting the sounds consume her like a crescendo. Her grandpa made it sound so easy, just dropping everything: it would feel like a cliff dive, jumping headfirst into murky waters. She closed her eyes. It would feel like being alive again, jumping out of this limbo, waking up from a long slumber.***Clara Bellville wants to start from scratch in a new town,  but it's not that easy being the newcomer and running a whole farm on her own. It doesn't help that Stardew Valley has its fair share of strange surprises. What does help, however, is the friendship of a certain small town doctor.
Relationships: Harvey/Female Player (Stardew Valley), Harvey/Player (Stardew Valley)
Series: Bellville and the Doctor [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140083
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I've written and posted fanfiction, but the Harvey-love was too strong to ignore. Title is taken from Sara Bareilles' song "Orpheus". Might be a tad slow with the updates, since school is starting soon: nevertheless, I wanted to put this out there for all you Harvey lovers. Hope you guys enjoy :Dc

It was sunny, on the day they buried Clara’s grandpa. She didn’t cry, not after she expelled all her tears the night she watched him on his deathbed. She stared at the gaping hole in the ground, and the stone shrine above it. He had requested that he be buried in Pelican Town, his home, beneath the soil he tirelessly tilled on. Clara couldn’t keep track of anyone in the sea of black clothes paired with numerous condolences to her and her father, but she remembered the sunlight. The way its rays shone so bright, people had to use umbrellas to stop themselves from squinting. She thought about her grandpa’s laughter and his kind smile, how he always made her feel like she mattered. In all the movies she’s watched, it was always raining at funerals. Then again, her grandpa was always a man of surprises. One such surprise was the creased envelope he had given her, his arms weakly stretching with whatever strength he had left, just to hand it to her. _Open it when the time is right, when you feel your bright spirit fade before a growing emptiness._

Clara was only thirteen, and though she had now buried both her mother and her grandfather, she had not fully understood what his words meant. It was not the right time, he said. If not now—not when she had just lost one of the most important people in her life—then when? 

***

The cold air that smelled of papers bit Clara’s skin, her mind numb from the discordant _clacking_ sounds of a dozen office keyboards. She stared at the white glare of the word document opened on her computer screen as she tried to ignore the ache in her eyes. She had only typed down a few sentences the past two hours: _Feeling drained from a day of work? Joja Cola is now packed with the energy-boosting caffeine to start your day right!_

Ironic. No part of her day, or week, was starting right. She leaned against her swivel chair and stared at the bright fluorescent ceiling light. She closed her eyes. A whole college degree to get a decent corporate position for a stable income, yet something always felt amiss. She heard a _ping_ coming from her desktop. She moved closer, clicking the messaging application, the notification coming from her office group chat. 

**Tyler:** yo, bukowski, is it true? Heard you’ve been hooking up with eileen from HR. sweet!!! ;) 

**Darren:** yeah man, she is sweet ;) it’s been good so far, we’re heading out for a date after work

 **Kat:** guys, can you take this to a more private chat? 

**Tyler:** ooooohhhh Killjoy Kat is mad. just wanted to congratulate my man 

Clara took a sharp inhale, clicking her mouse a little harder than the usual to exit the tab. She pressed her lips into a thin line, trying to keep her mouth from trembling into a sob. She opened her desk drawer, rifling through papers as a means to distract herself, to do something idle so as not to fall back into some pathetic form of despair. As she rifled, her hands touched a creased envelope, yellowed from age but still sealed. She didn’t have to think twice to remember her grandfather’s words, now flooding her mind with a certain kind of clarity. She took the envelope and opened it carefully, unfolding the paper inside it. 

My Dearest Clara, 

If you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of a change. The same thing happened to me, long ago. I’d lost sight of what mattered most in life....real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong. I’ve enclosed the deed to that place...my pride and joy: Bellville Farm. You remember it, don’t you? Those wonderful sunny days when you were just a little girl. It’s the perfect place to start your new life. This was my most precious gift of all, and now it’s yours. I know you’ll honor the family name, my dear. Good luck. 

Warm Hugs and Love, 

Grandpa 

Clara didn’t notice the tears until they started falling on the paper, one by one, like the beginning of rain. She sniffed and wiped her eyes, clutching the paper to her chest before folding it and placing it back into the envelope. She pulled out the other piece of paper inside, one that had a more formal appearance. It was the deed, just as her grandpa had indicated. She looked at the glaring white screen of her desktop, listening to the tapping of keyboards, letting the sounds consume her like a crescendo. Her grandpa made it sound so easy, just dropping everything: it would feel like a cliff dive, jumping headfirst into murky waters. She closed her eyes. It would feel like being alive again, jumping out of this limbo, waking up from a long slumber. 

She knew what she needed to do. 

  
  


***

The verdant mountains passed like a film reel on fast forward during the bus ride to Stardew Valley. Clara looked up, allowing herself to smile. She hadn’t seen a sky so blue in a long time, and it was certainly a welcome sight compared to the grey smog of Zuzu City. She fiddled with the keychain on her bag as she surveyed the other passengers. That was the strange thing. She was the only passenger on the bus. 

“We’re gettin close, missus. Pelican Town isn't exactly the glitziest tourist spot in the valley, but it’s a quaint lil place. You been there before?” The bus driver— a stout man who smoked a pipe as he drove— asked her. 

“Ah, actually yes, a few times. I was really young, though. I can barely remember it.” Clara thought about those car rides to her grandpa’s farm, back when her mother was still alive, back when her father could visit without the pain of her memory. The singing. Her mother’s candy-scented perfume. Her father excitedly talking about topics that were lost to her, but she remembered the feeling. It felt like coming home, somehow. After her mother passed, grandpa had decided to visit them in Zuzu, knowing full well how much his son couldn’t bring himself to take another drive to Stardew. Not for a long time. The last time they visited was to bury him, and even then, her father had given his terse eulogy and left with her just an hour after it had finished. 

“We’re here, missus.” The driver turned back to look at her, snapping her from her thoughts. His hands reached to pull a lever, the bus doors screeching as they opened. “Enjoy yer stay. Here’s some advice: Stardew is a special place. Lots more goin’ on here than you think, even in a small town like Pelican.” He chuckled, helping Clara carry the rest of her luggage down. 

“I’ll take your word for it, sir. Thank you.” Clara smiled at him before fishing her pocket for some change. She handed it to him, watching him hobble back into the bus. It disappeared into the distance, plumes of smoke sputtering from its engine. 

“Ms. Bellville, is that you?” A voice from behind asked. Clara turned to find an old man in suspenders and a brown paperboy cap, as well as a lady who looked to be in her forties catching up to him, her ginger hair tied in a messy half-ponytail. 

“Clara, sir. Just call me Clara.” She offered her hand, which the mayor shook with a firm grip. 

“Mayor Lewis, though I’m sure you already figured that out from my devilish charms.” The man laughed, slapping his knee and dropping whatever air of formality he had a few moments ago. “Yoba, it’s been so long. Last I saw you, you were sixteen. I’ve known you since you were a little girl, ain’t that right Robin?” He turned to the lady with ginger hair. “How old were you when the Bellvilles came ‘round often? Sebastian was a little kid too, wasn’t he?”

“Sounds about right, Lewis. Though we all knew your grandpa the most. You’ll be fixing up his old farm, yeah? It’s in quite a state, not much to look at!” Robin laughed, shaking her head a bit. “I’ll have to wish you lots of luck girlie, it’s gonna be a piece of work.” 

“I guess I’ll have to see it for myself.” Clara scratched her head. “Didn’t come extremely prepared. Bought a couple of farming tools from a hardware store back in Zuzu. Scythe, hoe, watering can, ax. The basics.”

“That should be enough. Besides, we’ve got Clint—our blacksmith—to help you with any tool upgrades you need.” Robin grabbed one of Clara’s duffles, shouldering it with ease. Upon closer examination, the woman was built like a strong oak tree with sinewy limbs. “I’m the local carpenter. If you need any repairs or buildings made, I’ve got you.” 

“Thank you.” Clara nodded, her hand finding its way to her keychain, fiddling with it. She couldn’t shake off the nervousness, but she tried to steady herself. It’s not an unfamiliar place. It was more like an old photograph that needed a bit of remembering. 

“Alrighty, think we’ve made our new town member stand long enough. You’ll need all your energy to help rekindle your good grandpa’s farm, so let’s get going.” Mayor Lewis gestured for them to follow, walking ahead and whistling something that sounded like a shanty. “You’ll love it here, Clara. Stardew is full of surprises.” 

“So I’ve heard,” Clara said, chuckling a bit as she followed Mayor Lewis and Robin. She occasionally glanced up, watching the clouds move slowly, almost as if they were taking this journey with her. 

***

Robin wasn’t exaggerating about the state of her grandpa’s farm. Weeds had taken over the ground without him to maintain it, bits of wood and rock overpopulating the place and leaving very little space to actually...well, farm. Clara spent weeks cutting weeds to collect fiber, breaking rocks and chopping the wood debris along with trees that blocked the path to the farmhouse. Work got so intense that she did, in fact, need the tool upgrades Robin had mentioned. 

“You’ll need ore. First copper upgrades are gonna cost you 2000 gold each. Each tool needs 5 copper bars, 5 copper ores per bar, so that’ll be 25 ores per tool.” The man named Clint drawled as he sat on a small chair behind his counter. He wore an apron covered in soot and an unkempt beard. 

“I, uh...I’m sorry. I’m kind of new to this whole thing,” Clara said, twisting the bottom of her sweat-dampened shirt. “You said an ore costs...75 gold each? That’s a bit over of my current balance….which isn’t much. Is there any other way I can get some?” 

“I’m a blacksmith not a walking mine.” Clint rolled his eyes, planting a hand on the table and glaring at her. “Try the mines. Old man Marlon might be able to help you. Mines won’t re-open till Joja’s goons finish their dumb repair, so whoopdeedoo, maybe that’ll give you time to save some money. Now scoot, I’ve got other things to do. Come back when you’ve actually got the materials.” 

“Okay, jeez. You don’t have to be so rude,” Clara muttered, taking her small satchel and walking out the door. Clara hadn’t met everyone in Pelican Town, but the people she had met were the epitome of abrasive. Shane was an asshole (“Hey, do me a favour, yeah? Stop talking to me”), George was a grumpy old man (“S’long as you mind your own business, we’ll get along fine”), and Clint was a sarcastic jerk. The holy trinity of a warm welcome. 

She sighed as she trudged back to the farm, her muscles and her feet sore from the day’s work. This definitely didn’t feel like the fresh new start her grandpa had mentioned, but then again, he hadn’t mentioned rude neighbors either. She missed her dad and their small but cozy apartment in Zuzu, but she knew she couldn’t go back. Clara would commit to this decision. 

Upon reaching the farm, she made her way to the far left corner of it, pushing through tree branches and leaves in order to make her way into a small clearing. She looked at the stone shrine, at the symbol of Yoba, and her grandfather’s name etched right in the middle. 

“Hey, grandpa. It’s me. I know you probably can’t hear me, or maybe you can. I don’t know.” Clara leaned against a tree stump. “Things have been busy. I’ve been trying to manage the farm, get it to look the way it was back when you were around. I always knew it was hard work, but I didn’t think it would be so...lonely?” She gazed at the night sky, the sea of purple with specks of bright stars. She had to admit, the sights here were more beautiful than anything Zuzu could offer. 

“I’m trying to find my place in this little gift you gave me,” Clara whispered, walking closer to the shrine and resting a hand on it. “Give me the strength to do that. I want to make you proud, too.” She caught something in her peripheral vision: there was a small piece on paper with something scrawled on it, perched on the delicate grooves of the stonework. She took it and opened it, finding only one phrase written on the yellowed paper: _Wait for my return at the dawn of the 3rd year._

“What the…” Clara trailed off, her brows furrowed in confusion. She looked at the shrine, which seemed to glow under the moonlight that filtered through the tree canopies. She thought of what the bus driver had told her the first day she arrived in Pelican Town. There was something strange about the place, from the giant birds that flew above to the singing sounds she heard whenever it rained. Among the many other things her grandpa failed to tell her about the place, he also never told her about Stardew being supernatural. Then again, he was a man of many surprises. Apparently, even in death. 

*** 

“Good morning Ms. Bellville! Clara, was it? I’m Marnie, I own the ranch just south of your farm in Cindersnap. So sorry to disturb you, but I happened to be walking by and I found this little darling waiting outside your door. I reckon the poor dear is a stray.” The friendly looking lady smiled at her, her eyes crinkled with laugh-lines and her thick brown hair braided to the side. 

Clara looked down to find a yellow cat. It gazed up at her with orb-like green eyes, its tail slowly swinging from side to side. It purred, padding forward to rub itself against her legs, its eyes alert and...god, so darn cute. 

“Oh, yes. Yes, of course. I’d be happy to take the kitty in.” Clara bent down to stroke the cat, scratching it behind the ears. “I’ll call you...Cinnamon.” 

“That's a wonderful name dear. I’m sure Cinnamon will love her new home.” Marnie clapped her hands together in glee. “Oh, and please, do stop by the ranch sometime after you’ve built a coop and barn. No farm is complete without its animals, and your grandfather certainly knew how to take good care of his.” Marnie put a gentle hand on Clara’s shoulder as she stood up. “Besides, we rarely get newcomers round here. It’s nice making new friends, and I can tell we’ll make good ones, yeah?”

“Yeah. Of course. Thank you, Marnie.” Clara couldn’t say much of anything else, overwhelmed with the lady’s warm welcome after days of struggling to talk to some of the townspeople. 

“Alrighty then, you take care Clara! See you around soon.” Marnie waved goodbye before walking down the porch steps and making her way towards the town square. 

Cinnamon meowed, looking at her new owner with an inquisitive stare before making her way to the side of the porch, lying down flat like a pancake. Clara smiled, putting her hands inside her pockets and leaning against the doorframe. 

“Looks like I won’t be alone after all, now that I have you. It’s not much, but it’s a home. I hope you’ll like it here,” she said to the cat, though honestly, she was saying it to herself too.

***

“Care to tell me what you were doing in the mines at such a late hour?” Dr. Harvey looked at Clara from above his thick-rimmed glasses, strands of brown hair falling across his forehead as he dressed the large gash that ran across her right calf. 

Clara drummed her bandaged fingers on the metal examination table, cold and hard, turning away from his gaze. “It was important. It’s not so bad, a few gashes and cuts,” she mumbled. 

“Do you know what _is_ important, Ms. Bellville? Your health.” Harvey was now wrapping her calf with a long strip of gauze. “Listen, I can’t help but be concerned about the well-being of everyone in this town. Since you’re now a part of it, that includes you. Those mines aren’t safe, and you’d do better staying away from them.” 

“I can’t, doctor. I’m sorry, but I can’t.” Clara winced as his fingers grazed a particularly tender spot. “I need those raw materials to help make improvements on the farm. With what little money I’m starting off with...I...I can’t afford to. I need to fix the farm up or I won’t be earning anything…” Clara let out a sharp inhale, trying to steady her breathing. 

“Hey, hey. Alright, it’s okay.” Dr. Harvey put a gentle hand on her knee in an attempt to calm her. “I...can’t say I understand how hard it is to be in your position, but I do understand that I can’t stop you from doing what you need to do for the farm.” His eyes softened, and he had stopped using his formal doctor tone. “Just please be careful next time. I don’t want you being rushed here in a stretcher or worse.” 

“Good for business, though.” Clara gave a nervous laugh, trying to take out the remaining tightness in her chest. 

Dr. Harvey raised an unamused brow, but his dimpled smile gave it away. 

“Kidding, kidding. I’ll be careful next time. I promise.” Clara reached out, her pinky raised. 

Harvey looked at it in puzzlement before realizing what it was for. 

“What, doctor’s can’t make pinky promises with their patients?” Clara chuckled, wiggling her pinky. “C’mon, so it’s more official, doc.” 

Dr. Harvey shook his head, clearly amused, and reached out to hook his pinky with hers. It was almost comical, how much bigger his little finger was compared to hers. They both let go, laughing at the sight. 

“Well, you’re all patched up for now. Come back in three days so I can see how that big gash is healing up and change the dressing. Doctor’s orders.” Harvey stood up from his small stool, offering Clara a hand for support as she hopped off the examination table. 

“Roger that!” Clara gave a small salute before making her way to the door. 

“Er, I think you’re forgetting something.”

Clara turned around to find that she had almost forgotten the giant, shining sword that rested against the clinic’s sink along with her pickaxe. Ah, right. How could she miss that. She gave a sheepish smile, grabbing both items before reaching for the clinic’s doorknob. 

“Ah, Ms. Bellville, one more thing. Would you mind if I escorted you back home? I, erm, I know you’re more than capable of fighting whatever may come your way, but as your doctor...I feel like it’s quite shameful to have an injured patient walk alone at this hour.” He slipped on his tweed green coat as he waited for her reply. 

“Oh.” That was all Clara could say at that moment, taken aback by his politeness. Between her interactions with Shane and George (Clint now having warmed up to her after she gave Emily an Amethyst on his behalf), Dr. Harvey was the whiplash that reminded her of how some people in Pelican town weren’t so abrasive. 

“It’s fine if that, uh, makes you feel uncomfortable. I understand, I just—”

“No, it’s fine! Sorry, I’m just not used to walking...not alone? With someone? On the way back to the farm, you see. That would be lovely and very nice of you, doctor.” 

“It’s no problem, Ms. Bellville. And er, please, call me Harvey. It’s, ah, high time we go past such formalities, and I would like to go past the doctor-patient dynamic.” Dr. Harvey was waving his hands around, the remnants of his professional composure having dissipated as he stuttered like the frazzled man she had first met in Pierre’s shop a few months ago. 

“Alright then, Harvey. That means you can call me Clara now, instead of Ms. Bellville.” Clara laughed, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. She opened the door, taking a small bow. “Shall we?” 

  
  


The walk home was pleasant, a companionable silence filling the space between them. The dregs of warm summer air had gone away, replaced with chill autumn winds that made Clara tremble a bit. She should’ve brought a thicker jacket, but she never had the talent for foresight, too distracted with the prospect of getting lots of materials after seeing the fortune teller on TV raise their hands and declare that the spirits were very happy. She may have gotten carried away, may have forgotten that she had a limit. She turned her head slightly to glance at Harvey, his eyes glued to the dark sky, his breaths puffed out in plumes of chill air. His hair had a slightly grey streak to it, making her wonder how old the doctor was. 

“You’re shivering.” His voice broke through her thoughts, making her aware of the way her hands were covering the goosebumps on her skin, which felt like a cube of ice. 

“Ah, yeah. Should’ve brought something warmer, my bad. Quite stup—” Clara’s words were cut by the hitch of her breath as she felt a warm and soft weight settle on her shoulders. She looked at the tweed coat that Harvey had placed on her, then at the doctor, who was left with his long-sleeved white polo. 

“I...can’t accept this, Harvey. You need your coat.” 

“I’m fine, the polo’s warm enough. I’m more concerned about how well that sleeveless top is going to keep you warm on the way back. Would be a shame if my newly patched up patient suffered from hypothermia.” He smiled, combing a stray lock of hair back as he chuckled. 

“Thank you, Harvey. Not just for this, but for everything tonight.” Clara’s tone was a little more serious this time as she looked at the man beside her. “It hasn’t been easy, fitting in. Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice, you know, just dropping everything to start this life. But people like you have made it much easier, so really, you have my gratitude.” 

“You don’t have to thank me for doing my job.” There was a pause before he continued, his words slow and careful. “Or for doing something I wanted to do. As a friend.” 

Clara smiled at him, a little too choked up to say anything else, but she figured he understood that. She didn’t realize that they’d reached the front porch of her house already, the warm light from the fireplace seeping through the cracks on the door. 

“Goodnight, Clara. Sweet dreams.” Harvey said, his hands clenching and unclenching as he gave her a shy smile. 

“Goodnight, Harvey. Sweet dreams, too.” They stood there for a bit, simply staring at one another, both of them unsure of how to leave. Clara reached out to put a hand on his arm, giving it a friendly squeeze, before waving goodbye and opening her door. “I’ll see you soon, doc. Thank you again, for walking me home.” 

Harvey grinned and nodded, turning around and silently making his way back to the town square.

Clara watched him go, her head peeking out of the door until he was nothing but a speck down the dirt road. She placed a hand on her shoulder and jumped, realizing that she still had his coat around her. It smelled like isopropyl alcohol and...was that coffee? There was something calming about it, though she couldn’t put her finger on it. Weren’t people normally scared of doctors? 

She took off the coat, hanging it on the wooden chair in her living room. Cinnamon—who was presumably sleeping by the fireplace—was now awake and looking at her with big, shiny eyes. 

_Mrow?_ The yellow cat stretched, her ears twitching in a language that seemed to be asking her how her day went. 

“Harvey walked me home, Cinnamon. Even lent me this coat over here.” Clara ran her hand across the soft material, smiling to herself. “He’s really nice, and I think you’d like him. Just, try not to use this as your scratching post, alright?” 

Cinnamon tilted her head, standing up and making her way to Clara’s bed. Clara took off her soot-stained clothes, crawling into bed and getting under the warm sheets as Cinnamon curled up on top of them. She stared at the tweed coat that hung from the chair, outlined by the yellow and orange glow of the fireplace, still smiling until her eyes felt heavy and she was carried into a dreamless sleep. 


	2. changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara and Harvey get to know each other a little better. Linus gives her some advice about trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I failed to mention this in the previous chapter, but I'm treating the seasons a little more realistically, for practical reasons. So yes, they don't end after 28 days :Dc They pass like the real seasons~ Hope you guys enjoy! :3 This chapter has quite a lot of fluff c:

“It’s for you.” Clara held out the jar of homemade tomato pickles in front of Harvey, watching his expression shift from confusion to surprise. 

“O-Oh? Clara, you really didn’t have to.” Harvey took the jar, looking at the red ribbon tied around it before placing it on the clinic counter. “How did you know I love pickles?” 

“Maru told me, a couple of days ago when I bumped into her. I had to ask. Not because I _had_ to, but because I wanted to. After all the worry I caused you, it’s honestly the least I can do.” Clara leaned on the balls of her feet as she clicked her tongue. She opened her satchel, pulling out a neatly folded tweed coat, handing it to the doctor. “I also washed this up for you, sorry for forgetting to give it back that night.” 

“Thank you, and it was no problem whatsoever, Clara. I’m just glad you’re healing well, your gashes are fading quickly, though I suppose we can attribute that to your youth.” He gave her a smile. “Try not to abuse it though. Doctor’s orders.” 

“I’ll try my best. Remember, we did make a pinky promise, and I don’t go back on my word. What would that make me? Nothing but a cheat.” Clara shook her head in mock shame, leaning against the counter. “Though honestly, doc, we’ve known each other for a couple of months. You talk like you’re George’s peer, surely you’re not close to geriatric.” 

Harvey laughed at that, pushing his glasses up. “Yes, not as old as George, but not as young as you. Do you want to wager a guess on how old? I promise I’ll take no offense.” 

“29?” Clara proposed, raising an eyebrow. “30?”

“Nope and nope. Though you are getting quite close with the latter.” 

“39?”

“Not bad. I’m 36, actually.” 

“Oh come on, Harvey, that’s not even close to old. Besides, you look mighty fine.” 

Clara noticed a blush creeping on Harvey’s cheeks, and felt her own wave of warmth after taking a few seconds to reassess her phrasing. “I-I mean, mighty healthy. That kind of fine.” She backed away from the counter a bit, wanting nothing more than to slap herself. It’s not that Harvey wasn’t attractive, but that wasn’t her intention, and she felt uneasy with the possibility of her words placing him in an uncomfortable position. 

Harvey cleared his throat, grabbing some papers from a stack and placing them inside a folder before standing up from his chair. “Thank you, Clara. Coming from a sprightly 25 year old, that’s a good thing.” He scratched his chin before turning to glance at the wall clock. “I’m sorry to have to cut this short, though it was a pleasure talking to you. I’ve got a few appointments to attend to. I’ll see you next week for the final check-up on those wounds?” 

“Definitely. See you then, Harvey.” Clara gave him a small smile before turning around, wincing as she stepped out of the clinic. She made a mental note to think about her words more carefully, the next time around. “36 isn’t that old,” she muttered to herself, smiling a bit, though she couldn’t tell why she took particular interest in that fact. 

  
  


***

Winter came soon enough, and Clara watched the first snowfall from the window of her home, hardly believing that she had stayed in Pelican Town for nearly a year already. She would get the occasional letters from her father, either congratulating her for having her farm featured in small newspaper columns or sending her some pocket money. The place started to grow on her, even if it took quite a lot of adjusting. She thought about what her former coworkers would say, knowing that she delves into mines to fight monsters or helps out tiny forest spirits on an almost daily basis. She had even gotten used to the idea that an actual wizard lived in Cindersnap, or that she once saw a witch fly by her house. A spaceship, as well, though she had a fair deal of wine the night she saw it, leaving her uncertain of its existence. 

Clara emptied out the last few drops of home-brewed coffee from her mug before setting it aside in the sink. She crouched down to give Cinnamon a few scratches behind the ears, relishing in the feline’s purring. After Cinnamon was noticeably satisfied, Clara made her way to the cupboard to pull out a thermos, grabbing the pitcher of hot coffee from the stove and pouring a generous amount inside. Passing by Harvey’s office every so often became a habit of hers, especially when she started harvesting coffee beans of her own, saving them for brewing. Her justification—not that she really needed one to begin with—was that she enjoyed sharing the things she made and harvested with the townsfolk. Harvey was no different, except that he was, somehow. She felt an engrossing warmth—it was a little different than the one present during other moments, like when Shane would smile after she’d offer him a chili or receiving a hug from Grandma Evelyn when she’d gift her with a freshly picked Fairy Rose. It was the way Harvey’s presence felt, like a hearth in the cold, the way he reinvented her days with something as simple as laughter. Why was it so different? Everyone laughed, everyone smiled (even George), everyone in town started to feel like family (except Pierre, who she hadn’t quite forgiven for claiming to have harvested _her_ produce). It was like watching a flower unfurl in slow motion. 

“Alright, Bellville. That’s enough overthinking,” she muttered, placing the thermos in her satchel before slinging it over her shoulders. “You’ve still got your morning chores.”

Clara made her way to the coop, collecting eggs and petting her chickens and duck. Rica and Pippa looked especially happy that day, clucking as they flapped their wings. She did the same in the barn, milking her cows Vanilla and Plum. She walked over to Yana, the resident goat, and gave her a gentle stroke. 

“No milk today, girl? That’s alright, take your time.” Clara smiled as Yana nuzzled her in return. 

After placing the eggs into the mayonnaise machines and the milks into the cheese presses, Clara opened the chest in her shed to pull out some gifts to distribute. Foraged flowers and berries, fresh produce from autumn, and some artisanal goods. This was no doubt her favorite part of each day, something that reminded her of how work can have meaning. Once her satchel was filled, she made her way out to the town square.

It was 2:00 pm by the time she finished giving out most of the gifts. There was just one left. Clara held the thermos in one hand as she pushed the door to the clinic, waving at Maru and handing her an orange. 

“Vitamin C for the winter.” Clara smiled, taking a seat by the waiting area, not wanting to disturb Harvey in case he had any appointments. 

“Thank you, m’dear. Here to see the doctor?” Maru asked, and Clara could see that it wasn’t the usual formal question she asked patients, but something she ended with a slight lilt in her voice. 

“Yes, I am a lady who ails quite often,” Clara replied, placing a hand on her forehead in a melodramatic manner. “I’m afraid I only have the winter before I succumb to consumption.” 

“Ha-ha, consumption? Really?” Maru took out her nurse’s cap to fix her hair. 

Clara laughed, resting her head against the wall. “Any chance I can leave this here for Harvey? I don’t want to rush him or anything, I just wanted to give some coffee.” 

“Mhm, well you know the doctor, he’s just going to keep asking me why I didn’t let you stay a little longer to see him. You know he prefers saying thank you in person.” 

Before Clara could reply, the door by the counter swung open, and Harvey walked into the waiting room. He was still wearing his doctor’s coat, a stethoscope slung around his neck. His eyes looked more tired than the usual, but his smile was as genuine as ever. 

“Clara! Wonderful to see you. I hope you weren’t waiting too long?” He stood in front of her, hands in the pockets of his coat. “Just came from an appointment with Jas, a poor thing fell down and fractured her ankle pretty badly while jumping rope.” He offered Clara a hand, pulling her up from the chair. “She’ll be fine, though,” he added after seeing her concern. 

“That’s good to hear, and a relief. I just wanted to give you another serving of home-brewed coffee. Hopefully the thermos kept it hot.” Clara offered it to Harvey, who took it slowly and held it to his chest. 

“Thank you so much, Clara. Honestly at the rate you’re going, I feel obligated to pay you for all the quality coffee and pickles you’ve given me, you’ve been far too kind.” 

“It’s really my pleasure. I just like sharing, you know. Makes the work worthwhile, knowing what I make can lift people’s spirits even for a bit.” Clara could smell his cologne, hints of soft citrus mixed with sanitizer and laundry soap. She resisted the temptation to stay there longer, a wave of calm washing over her senses. She didn’t want to overstay her welcome. 

“I’ll be going now,” Clara said, giving him a small smile. “You must be quite tired, and I’d hate to keep you from taking a well-deserved break.” Before she could make her way to the door, she heard Maru clearing her throat, almost like a cough. 

“Ah, Clara? I was actually thinking of getting a bite at the saloon. I was wondering if you’d let me treat you to dinner?” She turned to find Harvey with his arms reaching out. 

“Please don’t feel obligated to give me something in return,” Clara began, shifting from one foot to the other, her hand on the doorknob. “I’m perfectly happy just knowing that you like the coffee.” 

“Yes, b-but you see, I’d feel a little better. I recall someone telling me once, that she had to do something because she wanted to. Please, at least for tonight. I-I won’t bother you again, after this. If you decline, I don’t think I’ll, erm, be able to let it go.” Harvey was scratching his head, already removing his stethoscope from his neck. 

“He really won’t let it go, Clara,” Maru added, a grin on her face as she packed up her stuff. “You go ahead doc, I’ll close up.” 

Clara looked at Maru with disbelief, though she couldn’t help but smile. She turned to Harvey, shaking her head a bit as she adjusted the strap of her bag. “Harvey, you should know that you’d never bother me. I would love to have dinner.” 

“Thank you,” Harvey replied, taking off his doctor’s coat and hanging it on a chair before grabbing his own bag from under the counter. He opened the door, waiting for Clara to step out. “How do you feel about pasta? Gus makes a fantastic meatball spaghetti.” 

  
  


Plates lay on the small wooden table, though the spaghetti that was once on them was long gone. Clara sat comfortably, fingers entwined on her lap. 

“You weren’t kidding, that’s probably the best meatball spaghetti I’ve ever had.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, at least I know you’re a woman of taste.” Harvey chuckled, leaning back with his legs crossed. “I’m stuffed.” 

“Ditto.” 

There was a moment of amiable silence, the two of them seated and listening to the sounds of the saloon: Pam’s raucous laughter, the beeping of arcade machines at the back, and the steady chatter of other townspeople gathered to unwind in unison. Clara caught Harvey looking at her, which made her instinctively reach for the stray strand of hair on her face, tucking it behind her ear in a self-conscious manner. Harvey seemed to take notice of this, and he quickly turned his gaze away, clearing his throat as he shifted in his seat. 

“You know, Clara,” he began, with that familiar slowness, a sort of nervous hesitation. “Despite having known you for a while, I realize that I don’t really _know_ you. And...I would like to.” 

Clara couldn’t stop the warmth spreading through her chest at how sincere he was, the way he looked bashful for saying something so thoughtful. She propped an elbow on one knee, chin on her hand. “Likewise, Harvey. Though, since you asked first, what would you like to know?” 

“What brought you to Pelican? It’s a small town, not exactly on the map of tourist destinations. Word has it that your from Zuzu, though I should’ve guessed, seeing as how we have similar accents.” 

“You mean city-slicker accents?” Clara said, raising a brow and smiling. 

Harvey laughed. “Yes, city-slicker accents. I’ve always been curious about what you did, before you moved here to become a farmer. I recall what you told me that night you got injured, about dropping everything. Quite a grand gesture.” 

“Well, it’s not completely unfamiliar territory, you see.” Clara leaned back, her eyes focusing on the ceiling fans that twirled above them. “My grandfather, before he died, gave me ownership over his farm. I used to visit him here quite often, as a kid. He said I could only open it when the time was right, essentially when I’d grow tired and weary of life in some way or another. It did, one day, a week before I moved here. I hated my job...I took a marketing degree, started working for Joja.”

Harvey made a low whistle. 

“Right? Big time. My dad was pleased, and that was enough for me, at least at the time. You see, I wanted to be a singer and composer. I took music lessons my whole life, and it helped that my mom was a voice teacher. That was the dream, but when she,” Clara inhaled through her nose before continuing, “when she passed, things got a little more complicated. Dad had to raise me all on his own. He wanted what was best, understandably. Wanted me to take up a steady job with decent pay. He’s a writer, and my parents didn’t make a lot, just enough to keep us afloat. That was his reasoning, but I always suspected that there was more to it, that a life of music reminded him too much of mom. So, I made the loving choice. He was happy, for a while, until he realized I wasn’t. That’s why he’s so supportive about me coming here, starting from scratch.” 

Clara stopped, worried that she was boring Harvey with a sob-story. She glanced at him, only to be met with a soft gaze.

“Clara, I don’t know what to say.” 

“You don’t have to comfort me or anything, it’s nothing particularly tragic or sad. Just life, I suppose.” 

“Still. I think what I meant was...I don’t know how to commend you, because everything you’ve done took guts. No words seem apt to capture the awe I’m feeling, so to speak.” 

Clara nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “I appreciate the sentiment. So yes, I moved because capitalism sucked my soul dry, among other reasons.”

“Well, thank you for trusting me with your story.” Harvey stayed quiet for a bit, his face pensive, as though he was considering something. “You know, I do understand the feeling of wanting to start again. I moved here for similar reasons, though Yoba knows I’m neither strong nor brave enough to raise a whole farm.” He laughed a bit, shaking his head. “I used to work in Zuzu Medical. As you know, it’s the city’s biggest hospital, and bigger hospitals mean more patients, especially in a place as populated as Zuzu.” He paused, his fingers idly tapping his knee. “That meant more accidents. More tragedies. More lives in my hands…” Harvey trailed off, taking a deep breath. “It’s a lot. I’ve seen a lot, and even in a town as small as Pelican, it still sets my nerves on fire. But it’s quieter here, less people. I can keep an eye out, have some control over things, make sure everyone is alright.” 

Clara leaned in to place a hand on top of his, the way she would placate her animals when they got spooked from strange noises or the passing of a train, just enough pressure to ground them. “You’re strong and brave, too, Harvey. You deserve that much credit and more. The people in this town have never been safer in the hands of a doctor as capable as you.” 

Harvey looked at her hand before reaching for his glasses with the other, pressing the heel of his palm against his forehead before taking a shaky breath. “Thank you, Clara. Sorry, I get a little swept away thinking about it.” 

“That’s fine. Maybe we can talk about other things? If that’ll help.” 

Harvey put on his glasses again, giving her a small smile. “Yes, I think it would.” 

“What do you do for fun?” Clara felt silly, asking a question that sounded so rudimentary, though she genuinely wanted to know more about an aspect of his life beyond professional duties. 

“O-oh! I, uh, well…” Harvey adjusted his tie, giving her a sheepish grin. “It’s not much. I-I mean, it’s a bit dull, really.” 

“I highly doubt that.” 

“I...build model planes. Read books, sometimes medical books, sometimes detective novels. I, erm, I listen to jazz.” He let out a groan, burying his face in his hands. “I’m pretty sure even George has more exciting hobbies than mine.” 

“Are you kidding? I _love_ jazz. It’s actually the genre I was trained in, back in my music school days. Vocals and piano, the whole shindig. That’s literally the coolest thing. Who do you listen to? Davis and Fitzgerald are my all-time favorites. Peggy Lee, too!” Clara released the words in an excited gush.

“Wow, I can’t believe I’ve met someone who didn’t laugh at that fact. Well, besides Maru.” Harvey gave her a wide grin. “You really do have great taste, not that I ever doubted you.”

“As do you! God, I get why you’re hesitant to let people know, Darren always called it boring, an—” Clara stopped herself, suddenly hit with a wave of memories. She clenched her fists. Stupid. The images flashed, moving like sand that slipped through her fingertips, uncontrollable and overwhelming. She breathed in, pressing her lips together to stop them from trembling. 

“H-hey, Clara? Are you alright?” Clara felt a hand on her knee, the warmth waking her up from the cold that engulfed her body. 

“Y-yeah. Yeah, it’s ah, i-it’s fine. Sorry. Yeah. I just...slipped up. Remembered something. Not so great.” Her voice was quiet, to make sure he didn’t hear it shake. 

“That’s fine.” He gave her a small smile, but his eyes were filled with concern. “You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to.” 

“Thank you.” Clara meant it, and she held his gaze, to let him know that she did. Harvey nodded, and they sat down in silence before Clara started asking him about model planes. The conversation continued, punctuated with laughter, filling them like a good meal. They hadn’t noticed the saloon slowly emptying, its occupants making their way out, save for Gus. The saloon owner cleared his throat, breaking them from a conversation about pickles, and alerting them that it was time to go. 

“Wow, I didn’t realize it was so late.” Harvey was looking at his wristwatch, one hand combing through his hair. “I hope I didn’t keep you up.” 

“No, it’s fine! My farm, my schedule, so long as I’m up before 10:00 am to feed my animals. I hope I haven’t messed up your schedule either.” Clara grabbed her winter parka, putting it on along with her gloves. 

“No appointments tomorrow morning. Looks like we’re both clear.” Harvey paused, twisting his gloves while looking down at the floor. “M-may I walk you home again?” he asked, his voice soft. 

“Yes, I would like that.” Clara replied without a moment of hesitation, the words bursting like a waterfall. She collected herself. “I mean, if you want to. I don’t suppose you’re worried that I might get hypothermia?” She gave Harvey a coy smile, pinching the sleeve of her parka. “I came prepared now.” 

“N-no, it’s not that. I just...I’d like to.” Harvey seemed to be blushing, though it could’ve been the lighting of the saloon. “That’s all. I don’t have a very profound reason, other than the fact that I enjoy your company.” 

“I enjoy your company, too.” Clara reached for his hand and gave it a friendly squeeze before letting go. “You’re one of the first good friends I’ve made in this town, you know.” 

“It’s an honor, Clara. I-it...means a lot to me, this friendship.” 

They made their way out of the saloon, walking down the same dirt path, now covered in snow. Except it wasn’t the same dirt path. Something had changed. Clara stole a glance at Harvey, his features traced by the moonlight. His lashes had specks of snow, and this time around, she was hyper aware of everything: from their gloved fingers grazing one another to the locks of hair that fell across Harvey’s snow-flushed face. Perhaps it wasn’t the path that changed, or the season, but Clara herself. She felt it, had always felt it; she didn’t know what to do with this metamorphosis, other than to bask in the truth of its silent cry. 

They reached her porch, the fire from the torches keeping them warm. Something hung in the air between them; whether it was words or a gesture, Clara couldn’t tell. She went with the latter. 

“May I hug you?” she whispered, her eyes wide, like an animal waiting for a reprimand. None came. There was only Harvey, the warmth of his body pressed against Clara, his arms wrapped around her back, still light with his gentle trepidation but firm enough to answer to her question. 

They stood there for quite a while, though Clara wasn’t sure about the specifics. They let go at the same time, slow and lingering.

“Good night, Clara.” Harvey said, looking at her with that dimpled smile. 

“Good night, Harvey.” She placed a hand on his shoulder, just for a moment, before letting it slip back to her side and turning to enter her house. Just like the last night he walked her home, she watched him make his way back until she couldn’t. 

***

“Hey, Linus?” Clara asked the man seated across her from the large campfire.

“Yes, Clara?” Linus smiled, both his hands stretched closer to the heat, still dressed in yellow rags despite the winter cold. 

“How do you deal with it? Having been hurt so bad that...you don’t know what to do with your feelings? I mean, you don’t know what to make of them, because you’re scared. Am I making sense?” Clara fiddled with the hem of her shirt, staring at the orange glow of the fire. 

“You’re making sense. I don’t know what context you’re coming from though, but I suppose that’s not important if you don’t want it to be.” He withdrew his hands, plucking a blackberry from his basket and popping it in his mouth. 

Clara had grown quite close to Linus, over the past few months, despite his difficulty in trusting her. She remembered the first time she saw him, fishing through trash cans and hiding in shame while George asked her to check the commotion. She remembered the sadness in his face when Gus offered him food, and the grateful smile he gave her when she told him she understood. She understood that he lived a particular lifestyle, and all he asked for was acceptance and inclusion. Underneath the reserved exterior, he was a kind and wise old man. He apologized to her, eventually, for being closed off. She understood why, still unable to wrap her head around the cruelty of some people. 

“You don’t have to indulge me, if it’s complicated.” Linus chewed thoughtfully, silent until he gulped down the berries. “But I think you’re referring to trust, yes? How to trust people again, after having been hurt badly or so frequently. In a romantic sense?”

“Sort of. I don’t know. It’s just, there’s this very sweet man. He’s wonderful. I don’t know if I like him that way, or maybe I do, but it’s been a while. I can’t tell if I’m drawn to his kindness because it's like salve to a wound, or because there’s really something there, and I’m just not seeing it because I’m terrified.” Clara picked at the loose string on her jeans, her voice dropping lower than a whisper. 

“Ah, I see. Well, do you enjoy his company?” 

“Yes, more than anyone I’ve met in a long time.” 

“Good, good.” Linus smiled, leaning back to lie on the ground. “The truth is, I can’t tell you what to do with those feelings Clara. They’re yours to keep, yours to experience. Maybe things are muddled up right now, but why spend the precious moments worrying about borders and barriers? Why not enjoy whatever’s there, until the time comes when things start to fall into place?” 

“Will they?”

“Hm?” 

“Will they ever fall into place? The messy thoughts, the sadness, the fear?”

“Fear is a natural part of existence, Clara. It stays, but yes, things will make sense. Things get clearer, with the right heart. I’ve never met a person as open-minded as you: you’ve never judged me, never jumped to conclusions about the way I am. You wait and you watch. I know you’ll figure it out, eventually.” 

Clara nodded. Linus really was the wisest person in Pelican Town, an invisible treasure. 

“And Clara? To really answer your question. It’s not easy, trusting people again. I’m no saint, but some people really don’t deserve your trust, because that requires some form of forgiveness towards actions that don’t warrant it. But you taught me something important.” 

“And what’s that?” 

“All it takes is one person to remind you that you’re allowed to feel safe and experience kindness without strings attached. You taught me that, Clara. I’m sure that man is teaching you, too.” 

Clara looked up at the white sky, letting the snowflakes drop on her skin, prickling it with feeling. Linus was right. She was learning.


End file.
